by Jon Saboe
Once, (in the distant past) Shem had had a family and children of his own; and all—but his wife—had chosen to ignore his father’s pleading. And all—but his wife—had perished in the flood.
Once, he led a growing movement dedicated to the Coming of the Zeh-ra. And the people of the Serpent, his own nephews, had persecuted and enslaved them, killing many—including his wife.
Once, he had governed a collection of underground communities, dedicated to surviving those who would destroy their message; patiently watching and waiting for the Zeh-ra’s arrival. But they had mutinied, casting him out, as their vigilance turned into demands for vengeance.
And once, the Creator had sent Peleg to him; providentially restoring the knowledge of the lineage which he so desperately desired. And with his faith and purpose reborn, he had traveled to Ur—only to be banished and attacked after Peleg’s capture.
Shem decided that every time the Creator revealed a small window of hope, He soon slammed it shut, just as that hope threatened to come to fruition.
His despondent wanderings took him through the northwestern foothills, and then, (when the mountains became larger) he headed south until he found himself in the lands near the Great Western Sea.
After more months of isolated, nomadic living among the small streams in the west, he came upon a small, multilingual community, which claimed to have been founded by children who had escaped from the orphanages of Babel at the time of the Great Confusion. During the collapse, the “orphans” (all under the age of sixteen) had banded together; and, in spite of the language differences, had struck out on their own, determined to build a better life for themselves.
They eventually came to rest near this region where they survived on basic crops of rice and wheat, sheep herding, and modest fishing in the nearby stream, which they called (rendered simply in their many languages) “the Descending River.”
There were now several hundred in their community, which they had named (again, rendered simply) “The Community of Peace”. Everyone was either an original “orphan” or one of their descendants, and they typically lived under the open skies with nothing but plain palm-branch lean-tos and modest thatched canopies to protect themselves and their meager belongings from the occasional rains and summer heat.
In short, they were unsophisticated and uneducated, having been founded by children who had no adult guidance or academic training.
Their location was far from the normal trade routes (which normally followed the contours of the Great Western Sea), and they were quite unaware of the world around them. Initially Shem had been startled to discover their existence, but he became even more amazed as he learned (and gradually confirmed) their origins. However, after spending several months among them, his emotions turned to those of paternalistic concern, and he found himself overwhelmed by a great desire to teach, train, and care for these “children”.
The “Peaceful Ones” (which they called themselves in recognition of their place of refuge) welcomed Shem gratefully. And their fondness for this elder outsider grew even greater as he began sharing his amazing knowledge with them.
Shem found himself immersed in a new (and hitherto unknown) lifestyle: one of servant-hood. Over the next several years he taught them weaving, crop rotation, brick-making, and the basics of mathematics and astronomy—which he applied to their own rudimentary attempts at calendar making.
Soon they were erecting simple structures, including a preliminary foundation for a future city. Homes and meeting places were built, streets were laid, and the initial stages of a small observatory could be seen.
And, of course, Shem taught them of the Creator. Although (at the time) he had no great love towards the Creator within his personal life, he found himself compelled to teach them anyway, simply because it was true. And as he informed them of the Source of all life and knowledge, an amazing transformation took place.
His entire life had been devoted to Yahweh, the Creator. But as he continued to serve these people of Peace, he began to realize a hidden arrogance within himself. He began to realize that he had used his knowledge of the Creator as a basis for feelings of superiority—the very superiority for which he had chided Peleg. It was as if he had greater value simply because he knew the truth—and, although his current, personal interest in the Creator was almost non-existent, He was still, mercifully, working within Shem’s Spirit, gently revealing areas that needed improvement and also creating a genuine love and compassion for these people.
He began to learn of Yahweh, the Provider. He watched as the Creator fulfilled the needs of his new hosts, providing (often miraculously) materials and circumstances needed for the growth and development of the Community of Peace.
By unanimous consent, Shem became their leader—both in spiritual matters, and matters of state and commerce. As they grew, their need for extended trade also grew, and soon they were forced to venture out into the surrounding lands, offering their newly acquired surpluses—first to the cities along the sea—but eventually to lands far beyond their local region.
Wines, fruit preserves, and wool became their chief exports, and their fluency in many languages afforded them many advantages as they became master negotiators. And as their salesmen and traders traveled throughout the cities and lands, they returned with news of the outside world.
Shem encouraged this, and after several years, he had developed a large information-gathering network which he used to resume his work on compiling a genealogy of his brothers and their descendants. Soon he was able to determine which family lines had settled in which regions, and (when the Creator permitted) he incorporated this into his Amar.
He also learned of major events as they occurred—including the one great fear that had concerned him ever since he had been forced from Haganah.
Denizens of those underground communities, and their descendants, left their mountain caverns and swarmed eastward, attacking the cities and armies of Sargon. For more than thirty years they fought, as the Gutians vented revenge for the atrocities that Sargon had inflicted on them. They attacked the shipping routes and waged clandestine warfare on the cities of the plains, even capturing and laying siege to Uruk for several months. Sargon’s troops eventually prevailed, and the Gutians were forced back into the hills, but the cost was tremendous, and Shem regarded each new report with great anguish and regret.
He also heard of the spread of the Cult of Inanna as new temples were erected in her honor in more and more cities. Although she went by different names to accommodate the many languages of the world, the message of the woman who had borne a divine son spread, and the worship of the ‘god-king’ and his mother became a focal point within every culture.
In Kemet she was known as Isis, and her child Osiris. Far to the east in Hindus, she was called Devaki or Durga, and along the northern shores of the Great Western Sea, she was worshiped as Aphrodite. In the settlement of Canaan, she and her son were known as Astarte and Baal—where he also became known as the sun god.
Shem recognized the Serpent’s true motives in all of this; namely to subvert the message of the coming Zeh-ra, so that when the Seed did arrive, His coming would be lost in a confusion of myths and cults and thereby rendered inconsequential. And after His advent, it could be dismissed by future generations as just another cult or worse—a hoax. Shem hoped that the Creator would provide signs which would distinguish His arrival from all other stories and distractions. Signs which could not be fabricated.
As the decades passed, new nations and city/states were founded. Some arose in the deserts of the far south and deep within the Southern Continent. Additional kingdoms began further along the coastlines of the Great Sea. There were also large migratory settlements in the farthest eastern regions, and also in the lands to the northwest, where stories of increasing cold were commonplace.
He also heard of great wars, far away in the valleys of Indus, where the devastation was so vast that Shem feared mankind was rediscovering many of the tec
hnologies that had been buried during the Great Deluge. Such wars would no doubt cause great famines throughout the known world.
But throughout his years among the Community of Peace, Shem kept his eyes and ears focused on Ur, and was ultimately rewarded with news of Peleg from a source (a kitchen servant) within the Citadel. He learned that Peleg had spent the first years after his capture fully sequestered inside its walls—now the Temple of Inanna. However, after the untimely death of Tammuz, Inanna (in all of her mercy) had finally allowed Peleg to be reunited with his wives, but he was always under house arrest, never permitted to travel or leave his home, or to make any contact with anyone. This included his descendants who lived in Ur, but knew nothing of him, since knowledge of their ancestry ended at Reu. And Reu had never spoken of his father or told anyone of Peleg’s return from the Great Discovery. Peleg served as a mapmaker and linguist for Inanna, but Shem had been unable to determine anything else about his friend. It was certain that he was under constant surveillance.
But today, Shem was preparing for his return to Ur. As he gathered his belongings, he reflected on the two reports of death which he had received recently.
The first death was that of Nahor (Peleg’s great grandson), who had died of old age at the unprecedented young age of one hundred and forty eight, sixteen years ago. It had been a terrifying and sobering experience for the residents of Ur and all those who heard of his passing. He had been quite famous and wealthy, and his demise only accentuated everyone’s anxiety over humanity’s ever-decreasing lifespans.
Shem did learn that Nahor had a son named Terah who had taken over the family business in Ur, and this was whom he hoped to contact.
The second death was that of his father, Noah. Shem had managed to gather information concerning his father very sporadically, but the last report (which he had just received) informed him that his father had died almost seven years earlier. The report also stated that Gaw-Boluen, Noah’s wife, had simply buried her husband, and then walked off into the wilderness to wander aimlessly through this world which had never truly been her own.
He wept bitterly, still angry with his Creator for placing people in a world such as this. But even as he became submerged in self-pity, he was forced to acknowledge that all of the grief in this fallen world was actually of man’s own making.
Nothing would ever be the same. Nothing could ever be the same. Against all emotional assessments, he was forced to acknowledge that the coming Zeh-ra offered the only possible hope for this planet—and the human race.
As he set out for Ur, alone, he allowed himself one reflected amusement when he caught sight of himself in a small burnished-bronze mirror. He saw that his hair was starting to gray, and he recalled the uneasiness Peleg had felt with his first signs of aging.
He resolutely suppressed—as a hopeless dream—any thought that he might see Peleg again.
His first glimpses of Ur flooded his mind with images from his first visit, more than one hundred and thirty years before. It was the same sun rising over the same city, casting the same silhouettes over the same Citadel. He recalled his words to Peleg: A great deal can happen in twelve years.
Shem noted with a wry smile how little things had changed in over one hundred years. In fact, he concluded, as he approached the western gate, there is probably nothing new under the sun; and there was little likelihood of there ever being anything new.
As he began to mingle with the small mobs of traders and travelers entering the gate, he began to notice one very significant difference. The city looked old.
Or more accurately, un-maintained. Stonework was beginning to crack, and murals and banners, which had once been brightly colored, were now fading and washing away with time. However, the crescent moons were still polished and glistening in the distance, raised high above the corners of the Citadel as a reminder to all that the Queen of Heaven, whose symbol was her precious Suen, still reigned here.
He pushed his way into the city, unfamiliar with these streets, since he had entered from the port gate on his previous visit. He immediately began to ask about where he might find Terah, but he received a very cold response as people pulled away from him or laughed at his strange accent.
He soon realized that many regarded his height as an oddity: taller than average, yet too short for a Mentor—although he displayed the brow of one. (Twice he thought he heard people sneer “Half-breed!” under their breath.) Others looked at his graying hair and seemed to shun him as if he were carrying some dreaded disease.
Also, throughout his life he had refused to change his style of clothing, preferring the large shirt and leggings which he had worn while growing up. But it seemed that the standard dress for everyone in Ur, now, was flowing wool or flaxen robes of simple colors, unlike the diverse dress he had witnessed previously. He soon realized that his attire was the source of further derision, so he finally gave up speaking, and began studying the many items which were available for purchase—items not unlike those which had been available on his previous visit.
He looked for any symbols that might pertain to Reu or Nahor among the many diverse charts, statuettes, pipes, and pottery which were being hawked by aggressive vendors interested only in making a deal; but certainly not interested in conversing—or helping a tall, elderly foreigner who was only looking for directions.
Eventually, Shem arrived at a street which he recognized, and soon found the very shop where he and Peleg (and Bernifal) had been captured before being taken to the Citadel.
He entered to find a young boy wearing a dark green robe and a small headband made of (bronzed?) leaves. He was dusting statuettes which were certain to be Anunnaki, but Shem noticed with revulsion that the variety of subject matter had become even more grotesque and vile than anything he had witnessed during his first visit—or, for that matter, than anything he had imagined since.
The boy looked up as Shem approached, and made no effort to disguise his disgust. Before the boy could speak, Shem inquired about Terah.
The boy glared up at Shem, sniffed as if testing the air, and then looked down over the counter at Shem’s clothing. Finally he spoke, without looking up.
“Terah’s main warehouses are just outside the southern gates, piers seven through twelve. You will probably find someone there who can point you in the right direction.”
The boy looked up.
“But don’t be expecting any handouts,” he stated bluntly. He turned away quickly, dismissing Shem, and resumed his dusting.
Shem returned to the street, and made his way towards the southern gate, walking, not running, this time. He was astounded at the general uncleanliness as he passed by mounds of garbage, animal waste, and broken stoneware tools.
He pushed through the obligatory vendors surrounding the gate and exited the city, heading towards the main ports. He soon identified the sun symbols of Reu on banners over a set of storehouses, and headed towards a small group of men who were standing near one of the large open doorways.
There was some stifled laughter at Shem’s appearance, but these dockworkers were accustomed to the many clothing styles of travelers from around the world, and they managed to maintain a civil exchange with Shem as he spoke with them.
“Where might I find Terah?” he asked the man who seemed to be in charge. Shem suddenly realized that he was the only man without a beard, and that, in fact, none of the men in Ur were clean-shaven. He mentally added one more reason for his cold reception.
“Why do you need to see him?” asked the man standing next to the one that Shem had spoken to.
“I need to speak with him and his family,” Shem stated, slightly unsure of himself.
“About business?” asked the first man.
Shem said nothing for a moment, and then replied, “It’s a personal matter.”
The men stared blankly at him for a moment, until Shem felt compelled to add more information.
“I’m family,” he said, awkwardly, “somewhat distant family.�
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“Who isn’t?” laughed a third man, looking around at his coworkers with a grin. A round of laughter ensued, followed by one of the men commenting that everyone wanted a piece of Nahor’s inheritance.
The first man drew closer to Shem and said, “Don’t mind them.”
He pointed back behind Shem, towards the city gate.
“Terah’s sons work at the finishing plant, putting the final touches on our products and maintaining inventory. You will find it just inside the city gate, to the left. Ask for Haran. He is the eldest son of Terah.”
Shem nodded his thanks and began walking back towards the gate.
“Master Terah will usually stop by there later in the day,” the man called after him. “You’re sure to meet him then.”
Shem waved back at the men, who mumbled something among themselves, resulting in another wave of laughter. He then proceeded back through the Southern gate (passing under the disapproving eye of the gate officer) and turned left.
He immediately recognized the faded sun-motif of Reu on a banner hanging from a canopy under which a large assortment of Anunnaki icons, representing the usual natural forces and mystical animals he had come to expect. He passed under the canopy into the main shop, and began looking around.
It wasn’t long before a young man of about thirty approached him, wearing a short burnt-red robe with a loose belt made of finely woven gold links. He looked up at Shem.
“Yes?”
The man spoke dispassionately, his eyes droopy, as if anticipating a boring exchange. He glanced around the room, waiting for this peculiar customer to speak.
“My name is Shem,” Shem began. “I am looking for Master Terah, but I was told to come here and ask for Haran, his eldest son.”
“I am Haran,” the man responded. “My father is not due here for several hours, but you may wait here if you wish.”
